


The Heart's a Muscle (I Pull It Constantly)

by eggshellseas



Series: Sure as hell ain't best friends [5]
Category: All Elite Wrestling, Being The Elite (Web Series), Professional Wrestling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Banter, Barebacking, Body Worship, Developing Relationship, Dirty Jokes, Hangman is hung, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kenny is dramatic AF, M/M, Past Ibushi Kota/Kenny Omega, Shower Sex, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggshellseas/pseuds/eggshellseas
Summary: Kenny is a grown ass man, and he can have casual sex no matter what Michael Nakazawa thinks.
Relationships: Kenny Omega/Adam Page
Series: Sure as hell ain't best friends [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822132
Comments: 10
Kudos: 39





	The Heart's a Muscle (I Pull It Constantly)

**Author's Note:**

> Against all conventional wisdom I wrote the sex scene, and then the character stuff, which may effectively remove any incentive to read the non-sex part oops.
> 
> So by far the winner of the informal poll last time was to see Kenny topping, and here it is! I hope it also does an okay job of shedding some light on Kenny's POV. Follows immediately after the previous installment, and has some references to the first story in the series.
> 
>  ~~Bullet Club~~ ~~The Elite~~ Kenny is fine.

Kenny's floating pleasantly in the bubble between asleep and awake. He hasn't opened his eyes yet, and his movements are sluggish and without much intent as he drowsily presses himself against Page, nuzzling Page's cheek to feel the stubble that's grown overnight, then sliding down to tuck his head underneath Page's chin and slip an arm around his chest. He's so thick and muscular, a little soft in places, but that just makes him a comfortable pillow.

It was the sound of Page coming out of the bathroom and the jostle of him slipping back into bed that had half-roused Kenny, so he knows Page is awake, but he doesn't think Page realizes yet that he is too, because he doesn't do much besides shift along with Kenny, adjusting his arm as needed. Kenny is enjoying how nice it is to touch without having to think about the follow up - about how Page might react, and then trying to stay a step ahead, to stay in control. He breathes in the scent of Page's dried sweat. Page always smells like a caricature of masculinity - musk and beer and leather, or sometimes his woody, spicy cologne, nothing at all like-

Kenny takes a deep breath. He lets himself think it, calmly, just as an observation of fact, and then lets it go.

He slides one leg to rest over Page's hip and wriggles closer so he can get Page's thigh between his own. There's a tightness in the pit of his stomach, the beginnings of a tug-of-war between the contrary bodily functions of morning wood and the pressure of his bladder, but neither feel particularly urgent yet. And then there's the sweet ache from getting fucked. It's the sort of pain Kenny likes best, like acupuncture or cupping, or a deep tissue massage, where there's a physical reminder of the tension relieved. 

The thing about all of those activities is that they really required another person. Sure, he can sort of fuck himself, with fingers or a toy, but it's never as effective. Page being gone had meant one of Kenny's outlets for stress relief was gone with him. In the scheme of things, Kenny realizes that's nothing more than a minor inconvenience, a selfish want, not anything close to a real need or hardship, but he can still be glad to have it back.

And not that Page has asked, or said _anything_ , but it's been stressful as hell holding down the fort with Cody and TK. He doesn't hold it against Page that he hasn't been here. Of course he doesn't. He'd have to be _insane_ , a complete monster to be mad at Page for not coming back sooner, and he's neither-nor. Of course, it also isn't like Page has kids like Matt and Nick, but it's _fine_. 

Page nudges his thigh forward, like he's testing Kenny's reaction. The way it presses against Kenny's balls has him grinding back with a bit more energy. He stretches, feeling his spine crack. As he straightens, he drags his nipples against the light amount of hair on Page's chest and can't contain a soft gasp. It seems pointless to pretend to still be asleep after all that, so he cracks his eyes open and murmurs, "Hi," up at Page with a muzzy smile.

"Mornin'," Page says, brushing Kenny's hair away from his forehead. He'd done that last night, too, but never before. It's a simple gesture, but one that makes Kenny feel tingly, mostly in a pleasurable way, but also a little bit like he's got Spidey sense warning him of imminent danger. Kenny considers himself pretty good at compartmentalizing; he's had quite a bit of practice separating the personal from the professional. On the other hand, he never amassed much experience when it came to casual sex, and it's hard in moments like this to keep the walls up. He likes Page - loves him even, maybe not like Kota, and not like the Bucks either. If his love for Kota was romantic, and his love for Matt and Nick is familial, his feelings for Page, insofar as he'd had any, had always just been platonic, and now they're in limbo. Kenny feels like they get each other on some level, despite their differences, and that there's all the potential in the world for their connection to grow, but it's not yet enough to hang his hat on.

Right now Page is looking down at him with clear eyes, but later, at some point, they'll be glazed and bloodshot, and Page will accidentally break a glass, or trip over his own feet and send Kenny into a doorframe or a piece of furniture hard enough for Kenny to bruise. He'll suddenly decide to ignore Kenny for hours, completely mentally check out, sulk childishly when they're in the EVP suite, make Kenny feel like he resents every moment they spend together. He runs too hot and cold for Kenny to let himself relax, or to believe Page is any more committed to _this_ than he is to their tag team.

Page's thumb presses lightly between Kenny's eyebrows, which Kenny hadn't even realized he'd furrowed. He forces his expression smooth before flashing a quick smile. When he turns away with the thought of checking his phone, Page rolls on top of him and sticks his tongue in Kenny's mouth. Kenny sort of feels like a stunned fish for a moment, frozen with his mouth gaping open, and it’s the furthest thing from hot. He’s worried about morning breath, and his eyes are still sleep-crusted, but when Page starts kissing his neck and biting under his jaw, it feels so good that all of that flies out the window. It’s not long before, almost unconsciously, his legs have drawn up, pressed to Page's ribs, and he can feel Page's cock hardening against his inner thigh. Page's mouth trails down to his collarbone. Kenny's tempted to pull his hair to get him to move to his chest, but Page usually gets there on his own, so Kenny's content to give him free rein for a little longer. Page does better with a light hand anyway. Without lifting his head, Page reaches over to grope blindly at the nightstand, curses, and then sits up to search and finally retrieves the bottle of lube from the floor. 

He leans over Kenny again and drags the flat of his tongue against Kenny's left nipple, then draws it into his mouth as he squeezes lube into his hand. He looks up at Kenny's face for permission or approval - some sort of validation, clearly, so Kenny gives it to him, combing his fingers through Page's hair and arching through his shoulder blades to push his chest harder against Page's mouth with an encouraging "Mm." Kenny sighs happily at the way the tip of Page's tongue keeps flicking the underside of his nipple as he tries to keep it in his mouth without using his teeth. Besides a couple of times early on, when Kenny had to correct Page getting overzealous with the biting or pinching, he's amazing at this, and Kenny does try to let Page know how much he appreciates the time and attention paid. Of course, saying it outright would risk Page getting self-conscious and leaving Kenny's nipples tragically ignored, so Kenny just keeps scratching lightly at Page's scalp as positive reinforcement to encourage him to continue.

Kenny still feels loose and a little sore, bruise-tender when Page works one slick finger inside of him. Page groans against his chest. "Fuck, I gotta - you feel - can I fuck you again?"

Kenny wants him to - he really does, but he can't hide a hiss of pain when Page tries to press a second finger inside, soreness flaring into something sharp as he visibly flinches. Kenny rushes to reassure him, "It's fine. It's fine," but it's clearly not fine. Page pulls back and slides down, pulling Kenny's leg to the side, giving himself a clear view of Kenny's ass. Kenny, his cheeks burning, tries to squirm away, but Page looks up and gives him a reprimanding, "Hey," clipped and gruff, and like every time Page pulls that sort of shit, Kenny can't decide if it pisses him off more than it turns him on, or vice-versa, because how _dare_ Page speak to him like that? It hits Kenny in a very specific spot, where his ego, his occasionally surfacing fear of losing his status, and the sick thrill it gives him to be put down all overlap.

Page very gently uses his thumbs to keep Kenny spread, and Kenny doesn't care how many times they've fucked, he's still squeamish with Page staring that closely at his asshole. Page traces the rim before pressing his finger back in. It's too delicate to be clinical, but it's also clearly not to make Kenny feel good. When he pulls it out and looks at his finger, Kenny's half waiting for him to sniff, or lick it, or something equally disgusting that will make him cringe so Page can laugh at him, but all he does is pat Kenny's hip with his clean hand and sit up.

"You're not bleeding. You still might have a little tear, though,” Page says, way too flippantly, in Kenny’s opinion, like he's very familiar with the issue, like his obscenely large dick has left a whole trail of ripped assholes behind it.

"Is that your professional opinion? Do you moonlight as a proctologist?" Kenny says snippily.

Page smiles his most handsome smile, but it falters when Kenny keeps his expression flat and unamused. "No, I just - have you never had a fissure before? You could probably get some pain reliever cream or something from Medical."

 _Horrified_ doesn't even begin to cover it. "There is no way I'm asking Doc Sampson about anal fissures," Kenny says, and the pitch sounds shrill even to himself, but _come on_.

"I tore that ass up," Page jokes, the last four words accompanied by a mimed slap to an invisible ass in front of him.

"Oh my god," Kenny groans, covering his face with his hand. "I can't believe I let you fuck me."

Page laughs and moves back up to lay on his side next to him. He starts kissing what he can reach of Kenny's jaw and throat, which he has clearly scouted as one of Kenny's weaknesses, and strokes over his ribs, cajoling until Kenny finally drops his hand and lets Page have at his mouth. Kenny's on the line of whether he's going to be able to get back in the mood or not. He's trying, though, because it doesn't make sense to pass up the opportunity while it's there, not when everything these days is so uncertain. 

"Well, since fucking you is off the menu," Page breathes with a little grin, rubbing his palm up Kenny's sternum.

"Sorry," Kenny says reflexively, without any actual feeling behind it, but Page still immediately looks abashed.

"No, don't be. I'm just teasing. I should - I should be the one apologizing, if I was too rough, or-"

"It's fine, don't - it happens," Kenny interrupts him. Page is blushing a little, and Kenny feels his own cheeks getting warm again, and he's struck by the absurdity of the both of them stumbling with embarrassment over an unfortunate but normal, tiny injury. "All the shit I can put myself through in a match, and I can't handle one big dick," Kenny sighs, sarcastically self-reproachful, although he is genuinely a little disappointed, because it means going a week or two before Page can fuck him again, and there was no telling what might happen in that time.

"It's not the same thing," Page says sharply, which is true, but maybe not as much as Page thinks, not for Kenny, anyway. 

Kenny pulls Page into another kiss so they can move past the topic. Page responds gingerly at first, his fingers like feathers at Kenny's waist, like Kenny has suddenly become fragile. Kenny growls in displeasure and throws his leg over Page's hip again, and grinds into him roughly. He's trying to decide what the second choice option should be, if he wants _this_ \- rutting against each other to desperate, messy completion, or maybe something slower, more of a thematic fit for morning sex. Or, if Page really feels bad, Kenny could probably finagle another blowjob out of the situation, but as much as he enjoys Page going down on him, he also genuinely feels bad he can't reciprocate very well. He can't get much of Page's dick in his mouth before it starts to tweak his jaw, or it becomes impossible to keep his teeth covered. He does what he can, which is mostly tonguing Page's cock, or bypassing it in favor of using his mouth on Page's balls - things that work as foreplay or accompaniment to something that will actually make Page come. Kenny _hates_ not being good at things; he takes it as a personal offense. What's most offensive about it to him is that he likes sucking dick - likes how helpless with pleasure he can render someone, or, if he's in the right mood, likes feeling used and useful. And even though Kenny can adapt, it's still like Page has taken a weapon out of his arsenal.

Then Page smashes all of Kenny's ruminating to bits by asking, "Do you want to fuck me instead?"

"Oh. I didn't think you were interested in that," Kenny says once Page's words have fully registered.

Page shrugs. "I didn't think _you_ were. You never brought it up."

"Well neither did you," Kenny points out.

"I did. Just now," Page says, a little too pleased with himself for Kenny's liking.

 _Pedant_ , Kenny thinks, rolling his eyes to let Page know how he feels about his smarminess. "So you are interested?"

Page wraps a hand around Kenny's dick, making Kenny gasp softly at the suddenness of it. Page strokes him slowly, his head tipped down to watch as Kenny's cock stiffens in his grip. "Yeah, I like it both ways," he answers, and Kenny is still having a hard time accepting how nonchalant he seems about it.

Kenny will admit he's perhaps projected some stereotypical fantasy scenarios onto their relationship revolving around the idea that he's sleeping with a more-or-less straight guy, and that he has preconceived notions of what sexual hangups the prototypical straight guy might hold. It's partly the whole cowboy vibe, and since Page doesn't give him a lot to work with emotionally, Kenny's imagination has been free to conjure up whatever it fancies. It's a bit of cognitive dissonance that means, in theory, that it's not a failing on his part if and when Page pulls away.

"Okay," Kenny says, and then after a few seconds of feeling awkward with the silence, he says it again. He has thought about it, of course, because Page's ass is ridiculous, but it hadn't been enough of a priority to bring up. He tries to call to mind a single instance of Page hinting he might want his ass played with, and comes up with nothing, so he doesn't feel guilty that he's been getting his. Page is a big boy. He should have said something if he'd wanted to switch off earlier. He'd propositioned Kenny, after all. Actually, he's initiated most of the times they've slept together. Kenny is a little wary of Page's moods, and his drinking, and just generally of inadvertently scaring him off, which is probably - no, _definitely_ not good, but if Kenny can just stay on top of things, then everything will be fine. Everything _is_ fine.

"Okay," Kenny says again. Nothing has felt this awkward since their first time together. "How do you wanna…?"

Page laughs a little under his breath, and sits up, pulling Kenny along with him. "Pretty sure you know how it works."

"I have some idea," Kenny smiles.

Maybe Page is thinking back to their first time, too, because he turns and gets on his hands and knees. The cruise feels so long ago, but Kenny vividly remembers arranging himself like that for Page - remembers the jittery nerves and excitement of a first time with someone new, the anticipation of discovering what made Page tick, and what they could do with each other.

Page hands Kenny the lube, which Kenny sets down within easy reach before grabbing Page's hips and hauling him back so they're both standing, gliding one hand up to press between Page's shoulder blades, keeping his upper body bent down on the bed. Page usually does the manhandling in the bedroom, but it can't hurt to remind him Kenny can throw him around if the situation calls for it. Also, this is easier on his knees. He's not as young as Hangman, after all.

He takes some time just to appreciate the ass in front of him, squeezing a cheek in each hand and pulling up before letting go and squeezing again. It gives him a moment to center himself, too - to settle into the right mindset. It's not so dramatic that he'd call it getting into character, but it is a kind of performance. Kenny drops his arm and taps the back of Page's knee, prompting him to lift it onto the edge of the mattress. Page cranes his neck to look back at Kenny, wordlessly asking for confirmation he correctly got the cue, and Kenny, however unfairly, feels a twinge of annoyance that Page can't just be more confident.

Kenny lowers his gaze away from Page's, back down to his ass, but he does smile warmly as reassurance, because it's easier to just give it to him than to try to suppress the urge to see to Page's needs, an urge that persists despite Page ghosting for two months with no apology. Kenny's letting him get away with it - he _knows_ that, but he also shouldn't have to ask for common courtesy from his friend-slash-tag partner-slash-person he's fucking exclusively. Then again, that last one hadn't been discussed before the break. It hadn't really been a deliberate decision on Kenny's part, the exclusive thing, so much as - it's not like Kenny has the time to date anyway, and he hadn't been involved with anyone, or even looking for anything when Page had suddenly shown an interest. And if he's not planning on sleeping with anyone else, why not enjoy the perks of a monogamous sexual relationship? Granted, he may have railroaded Page a little there, but it's for the best. Well, it's for mutual enjoyment, at any rate.

"You enjoying the view back there?" Page asks, coming down on his elbow so he can twist at the waist and look at Kenny.

"I've never really gotten a good look before," he says. Then he wiggles the tip of his index finger at Page's hole, and coos, "It's so cute," like he's seen a particularly adorable animal video.

Page face plants into the mattress, wracked with laughter. Kenny feels warm with accomplishment, and it's so silly, and it makes him feel so happy. It's the feeling he's always chasing with Page, because when he gets it, it's so good that it makes the rest of the time worth it. It makes him want to grab Page by the shoulders and shake him and say, _Let's come up with a team name and a silly signature pose and coordinate our gear and just stop resisting this_ , but he knows how that goes, and he can only take so much rejection.

"Fuckin' - you did not just fucking call my asshole cute," Page chokes out after a moment. "You're trying to convince me to never want to do this again, that right?"

"No," Kenny says airily. "I'm just enjoying myself." He tarries another moment, palming Page's buttocks. Page hums, amused, and settles back down, folding his arms in front of him and resting the side of his face between his shoulder and forearm. He's gorgeous - his broad, tan back against the white of the hotel sheets, his angelic blonde curls, the ruler-straight lines of his nose and jaw. Kenny knows that, obviously, has known it for years, even when it wasn't more than idle observation, but it still sucker punches him sometimes.

He can't halt the wistful thought of Kota, whose beauty regularly took Kenny's breath away, but that was such a tiny fraction of why Kenny had been in love with him, and maybe - probably always would be, at least a little. But here and now, Kenny is with Page, and he firmly refocuses himself back on the man in front of him. Page is also so much more than his good looks. He doesn't ever listen when Kenny tries to tell him how amazing he is, and Kenny sometimes wishes he could press it into his skin or breathe it into his mouth, transfer that belief through touch. Page is a deep well of insecurity and need, and it's too easy for Kenny to fall into it - wanting to feel needed and wanting to be the perfect partner.

Kenny gets his fingers lubed, and presses his middle finger into Page in one steady slide, up to where the knuckles of its neighbors get in the way of going deeper. "Fuck," Page groans, long and drawn out. He turns his face forward, leaning on his forehead, and stretches one arm out in front of him, his hand clutching at the bed. He seems to know how to push back and take it, so Kenny adds his index finger, then reaches around with his other hand to stroke Page's cock. Kenny is usually so eager to get it inside him that he hasn't spent all that much time touching it. He makes up for what he's missed out on by mapping out every inch. With barely-there pressure he trails his fingers over the faint topography of veins, and where the glans flares out from the shaft, around to where it dips into a rounded v, and he can feel how the skin under it draws taut, the ridged spot where his foreskin would've pulled back. He's so thick in Kenny's hand, so hard that when he squeezes Page's cock he hardly feels like he's doing anything to it.

Page huffs at the teasingly light touches, but doesn't complain, seemingly more focused on working himself on the fingers in his ass. Kenny keeps the slide of them in and out at a decent, steady pace, occasionally twisting his wrist to send his fingers in at different angles until he's gradually made a full circle, methodically loosening the muscle at Page's entrance.

"Fuck, Kenny, your fingers, knew you'd be good at this. You're good at everything, aren't you? Just fucking perfect," Page says, the words sharp between short breaths.

Kenny leans down, the stretch and the angle both awkward, so he can shut Page up with something akin to a kiss. He has to pull his fingers out to get close, but even still can't get them lined up properly, so he licks at the corner of Page's lips, wanting to stop the bitterness that's masquerading as praise. Page strains to turn and meet him, his tongue glancing across Kenny's, his breath humid on Kenny's face. He manages to grab onto Kenny's hair and makes him yelp, startled, by nipping at his chin. "Fuck me," Page says, then catches Kenny's bottom lip between his teeth and tugs lightly. "Fuck me now, come on, baby."

It makes Kenny feel dizzy with arousal, and he has to pause as he moves to reposition himself, pressing his lips to Page's spine halfway down his back, and then resting his brow there briefly. Both of his hands grip Page's hips. "I don't - we still don't have any condoms, obviously," Kenny says, a little uncertain how to best broach the subject.

Page gives him a weird look over his shoulder, but Kenny's just trying to be responsible. "It's okay. Only fair, right?"

"It's not about fair," Kenny protests, offended enough that he stands up and takes a step back.

"Hey," Page says, that same rebuke that makes Kenny itch like his skin is too tight. He straightens, turning and bringing one hand up to hold Kenny's chin, and then kisses him. "I want it, and I trust you," he murmurs against Kenny's mouth.

Page must have said he trusted him before at some point, in some context; Kenny is sure, though he fails to come up with an example. It's not an earth shattering declaration. They've been on the same team almost the whole time they've known each other. Kenny trusts Page with his physical health and safety, absolutely; he has to to work with him, and that trust has extended to sex, without question. He trusts Page to pull his weight in matches. He trusts in Page's talents and skill and that he's overall a good person, though perhaps not the most dependable or stable. Kenny's not sure he'd trust Page to show up if he asked him for a ride from the airport. He doesn't think he'd trust Page to cat sit, and that hurts his soul to think about, so he kisses Page back and says, "Okay," so he doesn't have to.

"Okay," Page drawls in return, slightly mocking. "Now, can we get me something better to brace myself on? What do you think?"

Kenny glances around the hotel room, and sweeps his arm out like he's just unveiled the place to Page. "Take your pick."

It's impressive the way Page can amble like he's wearing his cowboy boots, effortlessly cool even while naked and sporting an erection. He crosses the room over to the built in counter of the mini bar, and puts his hands on the edge of it next to the coffeemaker, tilting forward and back experimentally. "This work for you?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, it's working for me, baby," Kenny says, playing up the lechery.

Page shakes his head with a smile, then leans over slightly, widening his stance, the invitation obvious. Kenny gets the lube and takes himself in hand. He flicks his gaze between Page's perfect peach of an ass, and then up to feel the jolt of heat it gives him each time he sees Page watching him get himself hard, knowing that Kenny is going to fuck him.

He joins Page at the counter, coming up behind him, and wraps one arm around Page's waist, fitting his other hand to the curve of Page's ass. He's sure what the answer will be, but still has to ask, "Ready?"

"Yes, fuck, come on already," Page says, sounding both amused and exasperated. Kenny thinks about teasing Page about he could learn a thing or two from him about being more considerate, but he'd actually hate if Page did that, at least when it comes to sex, so he doesn't. He digs his fingers into the meat of Page's ass and tugs to the side so he can press his cock between Page's cheeks, then lets Page find the angle for him, waiting as Page adjusts the bend of his knees and the level of his hips until Kenny's dick is rubbing over the pucker of Page's hole, and then Kenny flexes the arm he has hugging Page to anchor them together as he penetrates him.

Kenny hasn't been on this side of things in quite a while, and for a moment he feels like his legs have turned to jelly, and he has to lean his weight on Page's back. He reaches for Page's cock in the meantime. It practically jumps in his grip, and the crown is slick with precum. Kenny leans in so his mouth is close to Page's ear, and, soft and low, says, "Can't believe you've been hiding that you like this from me."

Page gasps, his lashes fluttering. "I wasn't - wasn't _hiding_ ," he says roughly, dropping his head between his shoulders.

"It's not nice to keep secrets from your partner," Kenny continues in a sing-song voice. If Page was facing him, Kenny would wag his finger at him as well. "And you look so good like this."

It's not even particularly nice, but Page still inhales sharply, his cock twitching in Kenny's hand again. _Interesting_ , Kenny thinks. If this is what will make Page accept a compliment, Kenny will have to keep that in mind. Page, however, doesn't leave room for Kenny to test the theory further, possibly on purpose, reaching back to grab Kenny's ass and forcibly pushing him into giving a tiny thrust.

"God, Kenny, give it to me, goddamn it," he demands, and then laughs, breathlessly triumphant when Kenny starts moving inside him. "Didn't think it was possible to wear your ass out, but I'm glad I did."

Kenny chuckles, though it rubs him the wrong way a little. "Or you could've just asked," he says pointedly. Then, to soften it, because Kenny has been softening himself for people since - well, for a while now, he adds, "You give it to me so good, I would've been happy to return the favor."

Page bites his lip, looking oddly bashful. "I didn't want - I wouldn't want it to feel like you were doing it as a favor."

"Just because it's not number one on my list doesn't mean it's a _chore_. It's not like I have to grit my teeth through it." It feels like he's veering too close to a lecture, so Kenny tries to pad it with compliments again. "Why wouldn't I want to fuck you? Have you seen your ass?" As punctuation, Kenny gives him a light spank. "Just...tell me what you want." He nuzzles the back of Page's neck, and then tips his face up to whisper in Page's ear, "I want to be good for you."

" _Jesus_ , Kenny," Page says, strangled, his body clenching around Kenny's dick deliciously. Kenny thought he'd like that one.

He drags his thrusts out longer, finally allowing himself to really feel how good it is to have Page like this. He hadn't been sure they'd find their balance as effortlessly as when Page topped, but they do. Page meets Kenny's moves with an easy, instinctive rhythm. Every time Kenny's hips slap against Page's ass, he can feel how strong Page is, how he just absorbs the force without swaying forward. Kenny puts a hand on top of Page's and threads their fingers together. His other hand is still on Page's dick, mostly just holding his fist tight for Page to fuck. He's already feeling a little winded, like he's been wrestling in one hundred degree weather, but he thinks it's excusable considering it's the first time they've done this. Page squeezes his hand, and Kenny's not sure if it's meant to be reassuring, or encouraging, or if it's just reflex, but he latches onto it, knotting his fingers even tighter between Page's. "Doing good, baby. You fit just right," Page says, the smoky twang he gets sometimes during sex coming out. 

Kenny's embarrassed by the noise that hiccups out of his throat like a dry sob. He tries to salvage some scraps of composure, or at least reduce Page to a similar state. "Touch yourself," he growls, and when Page obeys, Kenny puts his freed-up hand on the nape of Page's neck and pushes him to bend down farther at the waist, not rough, exactly, but insistent. It's immensely gratifying when Page moans at the new angle, but after only a few thrusts, the way Kenny is going in puts enough pressure on his upper pelvis to remind him he never took his morning piss.

He stills, his hips flush to Page's ass, and starts laughing because he realizes it really is a retake of their first time, and he does appreciate a good callback. Page tenses, untangling his hand from Kenny's and straightening up enough that he can glare at him over his shoulder. "You wanna let me in on the joke?" Page asks edgily. 

It takes a second for Kenny to be coherent about it, and by then he feels sheepish about the reaction. "Um, I'm not going to be able to come until I take a piss," he says, his face burning.

"What?" Page says, confused, but then Kenny sees it dawn on his face. "Oh. _Oh._ I didn't think about that, I guess I - sorry, I shouldn't have just…jumped you first thing."

Kenny quite likes the idea of Page waking him up to fuck him, or maybe even waking up _to_ Page fucking him, but there's no need to go into it now. "No, no, that was fine. That was good," Kenny says. "We could revisit that, maybe, but right now, we could take a quick break and reconvene in the shower?" There's a glaring opening for a golden shower joke there. Kenny doesn't take it. He doesn't know if Page knows they'd used it as the name of a Golden Lovers move. Probably not. But maybe anything with the word golden would seem suspect. Then again, maybe Kenny is projecting.

"Reconvene," Page repeats, laughing. "Yeah, let's _reconvene_ your dick with my asshole, by all means."

Page smartly thinks to grab the lube on the way to the bathroom, and starts the shower while Kenny wipes himself off and then stands in front of the toilet, waiting for his dick to go down enough that he can comfortably pee. It's not quite domestic, but it's a very pleasant level of comfort.

When Kenny steps into the shower, he barely gets a chance to get his hair wet before Page has grabbed a handful of it, his other hand, already slick with lube, wrapping around Kenny's cock. Kenny pulls against the grip on his head to find where Page put the bottle so he can stroke Page in return.

There's not enough of a difference that Kenny feels inferior, not that he's that concerned about dick size to begin with, but there's just something about the side by side comparison that makes heat pool in his stomach. Page is like the rough, virile stable hand in a period romance, or in the sort of porn genre where effete, snobby lords or nobles get railed by their servants. There isn't really any hierarchical disparity between them, not now anyway, but, and with no disrespect to Hangman, he'd never been the leader of Bullet Club.

Page draws him closer, and then bumps his forehead gently into Kenny's. "Ready to reconvene?" He asks teasingly.

"When you are," Kenny says, making a little flourishing gesture with his hands.

"Try not to get too excited." Page is clearly trying for sardonic, but his face is like the visual equivalent of a puppy whimpering.

Kenny sighs, and leans in to kiss Page. He runs his fingers down Page's arm and then encircles his wrist to pull Page's hand back to his dick, just to underline how achingly hard Page has gotten him. He squeezes Page's ass with his other hand and uses it to steer Page into rubbing his cock against his hip. "Trust me," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to make eye contact. "I'm excited."

Page's mouth opens slightly on an exhale, and he licks his bottom lip. He searches Kenny's eyes for a moment, and then swallows. Kenny smirks, and then guides a very unprotesting Hangman to turn around. He wishes he could give it some real panache - spin Page around and slam him against the wall, but he'd hate for either of them to slip and crack their skull open. He plasters himself to Page's back, running his hands over Page's chest and down to his thick thighs. Page raises an arm to brace himself on the shower wall, the definition of his muscles so enticing that Kenny tips his head forward to get his mouth on him, chasing drops of water through the valleys between Page's bicep and deltoid with his tongue. 

It's a smooth glide getting back inside him thanks to Page's reapplication of lube. Kenny keeps rubbing Page's thighs with one hand while he fucks him, periodically slipping it between them to stroke his fingers lightly over his sac, scratching his nails gently through Page's curly pubic hair. "You're so good," Kenny tells him over the spray of water. "You feel so good. I'm so glad you asked me to do this." 

Page groans, his head falling forward. Thankfully his arm is there to pillow his forehead. He grips his cock with his other hand, pulling off with tight jerks. "I'm gonna come," he says, panting.

"Do it," Kenny says, hooking his chin over Page's shoulder to watch. He rolls his hips, grinding in little semi-circles, and cups Page's balls, feeling them throb as Page comes, and then loosen as the mess on Page's hand is quickly rinsed away and his breath starts to even out. Kenny's still thrusting slowly, mouthing at the curve of Page's neck. "I'm close," he says once he thinks Page is back with him. "You want me to pull out?"

"No, fuck, come inside me. I wanna find out if I like it as much as you."

"You've never?" Kenny asks, lifting his hand to Page's chest, tracing curlicues along the top of his rib cage.

"Never went bareback with a guy before last night," Page says. Kenny can see him watching for his reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"Oh, I-" Kenny's not sure what to say. _I didn't know_ \- obviously: he'd avoided knowing anything definitive about Page's sexual history. "I'm flattered," he settles on, giving it a heavily ironic theatrical delivery.

"Come on," Page says softly, ignoring Kenny's brief acting foray. With his head still bowed, he reaches back with his other arm to grasp Kenny's hip. "Kenny, baby, please."

He must know that Kenny is helpless when he talks like that. Kenny should be more worried, maybe, that Page is assembling his own bag of tricks that can be used against him. He might worry about it later, but right now all he can do is clutch Page tightly, his face pressed to the back of Page's neck. His thrusts go jackrabbit quick, a chase to the finish. If Page is still talking, Kenny can't hear him past the thrum of his own pulse, but he can feel Page coaxing, kneading at his hip, then back a little farther to his ass. Kenny moans shakily, and then finds a bump at the top of Page's spine to press his open mouth to, scraping over the skin with his teeth and sucking there as he comes, not because he cares about being quiet, but to give himself grounding while it feels like the floor might have disappeared beneath his feet.

Kenny's not sure how long he stands there, his eyes closed, slumped enough that his cheek is resting between Page's shoulder blades. It's long enough that his cock softens and slips out of Page, and for the water to cool enough that Page adjusts the temperature, overcorrecting and making Kenny grumble in protest. Page laughingly apologizes, and tells Kenny to get off of him, and that they're wasting water. Kenny grumbles again, but forces himself upright, conceding that Page has a point.

Kenny washes Page's hair for him, and lets Page scrub his back. While Kenny is combing conditioner through the tangles in his own hair, he sees Page make a face as he reaches behind himself to let the shower spray rinse the cleft of his ass.

"Not a fan?" Kenny asks with a smile.

"Jury's still out," Page says. "I liked feeling you come, but don't think I'd want to sit around leaking like the worst case of swamp ass, though."

"Jesus christ, Pizz," Kenny laughs. "Anal fissures, anal leakage..."

"Anal leakage would be a good name for a metal band," Page muses aloud, and Kenny kisses him, because the bright, bubbling feeling is back in his chest.

Unfortunately, it's dampened when they finally get out and Kenny sees how late it's gotten. He had expected they would fuck after waking up, and factored it into his outline for the day, but he hadn't counted on it taking up this much time. Five, ten years ago, Kenny would have happily spent all day in bed fooling around, but not only does he not have the refractory period of his younger self, he's also got a lot more shit to do. He has a Zoom meeting, a phone interview, and then he's driving to Orlando, where he will have roughly thirty-six hours before he has to head back up to Jacksonville for the pay-per-view.

He knows the company booked Page his own room, since neither of them were about to tell the office they were sharing, and Kenny's trying to figure out the nicest way to tell him to go there, or anywhere that's not here, because it's very distracting how handsome he is, and how he's being clingier than usual, catching Kenny around the waist whenever he's in reach, and kissing his neck or shoulders as Kenny's getting his stuff ready to go. 

Maybe it was the reunion sex inspiring this out of character handsiness, or the fluid exchanging, or maybe Page had really come back with a new attitude. Kenny wouldn't be able to tell until he saw Page around other people, but his hopes are not buoyed by Page getting a beer out of the fridge and popping it open.

"That's breakfast?" Kenny asks, trying to sound neutral.

Page tips the bottle towards him before taking a sip. "Too blue collar for you? Add an egg and it's a complete breakfast."

"You're not a coal miner," Kenny says, some aggravation bleeding through. The way Page looks at him tells him he's on thin ice, so Kenny pretends to zip his lips closed, and then holds his hands up in surrender. The imaginary zipper is almost immediately discarded, however, because a calendar reminder goes off on Kenny's phone. "You'll have to take your coal miner breakfast to go, I'm afraid."

Luckily, Page doesn't seem upset to be shooed away. He kisses Kenny one last time on his way out, and Kenny tolerates the disgusting aftertaste of beer on his breath just to make extra sure he leaves on a good note.

-

After the interview has wrapped up, Kenny heads out to his car in a sour mood. He's always as vague and diplomatic as possible, but every time he gets asked about a partnership with New Japan he wants to punch a wall. It feels like such a farce, pretending like it's not obvious that of course he desperately wants that to happen, while the interviewers pretend the actual question they're asking isn't, ' _Will we ever see the Golden Lovers again?'_

One day maybe Kenny will snap and post an ill-advised Twitter thread about how he'd made a mess of things by not asking Kota to come to AEW, and how Khan and the Bucks had approached him with an offer behind Kenny's back, and how Matt and Nick thought they'd been doing him a favor, but how hurt Kota had been, and how Kota wasn't speaking to him, and how it killed Kenny that they'd left on bad terms, but how in the end it didn't matter because Kota _needed_ to stay in Japan. He needed and deserved to be at the top of the company, and Kenny needed...Kenny needed to do this, for now.

But it isn't anyone's business.

Shida and Nak are waiting for him by the car. Nak looks him over with a critical air. Kenny touches his chin and then fiddles with his hair, wondering if Page left a mark somewhere visible without him realizing. He's sore, but not walking funny or anything; Nak just knows him well enough to pick up on something.

Nak doesn't like Page very much. He's protective of Kenny, and he's already made his concern clear in private. Kenny trusts his judgment, and given that Nak's only known Page in AEW, maybe he's right to worry, but Kenny knows Page better than him, better than anyone at this point probably, and Kenny can handle him.

"So Hangman is back," Nak comments once they're on the road. "I guess everything is good with you two?"

"What do you mean? Of course. We're the tag champions."

"You know what I mean!" Nak says, rolling his eyes at Kenny being deliberately obtuse.

"Are you _dating_?" Shida asks from the backseat, sounding scandalized.

"We're not teenagers. It's not dating," Kenny says irritably.

She hums like she thinks Kenny is full of shit. "What would you call it then?"

"It's nothing," Kenny hedges. "It's - I'm not - It's just casual."

"Kenny, I have known you for more than ten years," Nak says. "You have never been casual about sex."

"Whatever," Kenny mutters. He's a grown ass man, and he can have casual sex no matter what Michael Nakazawa thinks. He might silently snicker at the phrase 'ass man', but he's still an adult nonetheless.

"Does he really have such a big...you know?" Shida pipes up.

"Where did-what," Kenny sputters as Nak laughs uproariously. 

"Oh, I hear some of the guys joke about it sometimes, " Shida tells him. 

Kenny is very glad he's driving and doesn't have to look at her with how embarrassed he is. "Like who?" He asks suspiciously.

She starts listing on her fingers: "Austin, Isiah, Marq, Trent, Chuck-"

"Okay, I get it," Kenny interrupts. He really doesn't like putting his personal life out there too much, or not his sex life, at least, but something about the thought of the locker room knowing that he was fucking a - a _stud_ like Hangman isn't completely disagreeable. It's still very embarrassing, though.

"I'll admit I didn't think you were that shallow," Nak sighs dramatically, like a disappointed parent, and now Kenny is very much _not_ glad he's driving, because he can't bury his face in his hands.

"Michael's just jealous you never slept with him," Shida grins, because Kenny's friends are the _worst._ After a beat she follows up with, "You two never did, right? Please say no. I feel like you're my brothers."

"Yeah right," Nak huffs. "He wishes! I'm very handsome, and I have moves."

Shida laughs and Kenny reluctantly smiles. "You are very handsome, Nak," he says. "But alas, Michael Nakazawa was already taken when I met him. I never had a chance."

"No one had any chance of getting you to look at them with - ah," Nak cuts himself off, and Kenny can practically hear the sound effect of screeching brakes playing. He covers lamely with some joke about it being impossible to tear Kenny away from the arcade, and then Shida has to pretend she doesn't know what he was going to say, and Kenny, for his own sanity, has to pretend they don't feel sorry for him.

"Sorry about...you know," Nak says later, when Shida has her headphones on.

Kenny forces a grimace of a smile, his hands clenching on the steering wheel. "It's fine," he says. It's clearly not

**Author's Note:**

> Boy, these keep getting longer.
> 
> I don't know the origin of the nickname Pizz, just that Kenny calls Page that, as seen [here](https://mobile.twitter.com/kennyomegamanx/status/1023749813538410496?lang=en) (which is also where I took the spelling from), and in some BTE episodes that I will at some point add here. If I had to guess, it's to do with the Bullet Club being nicknamed 'Biz Cliz' back in ye olde days of 2015. In that case, you'd think it'd be 'Piz', but I still went with Kenny's Twitter spelling.
> 
> Also, [here](https://mitchtheficus.tumblr.com/post/170175124289/what-does-ibushi-smell-like) is how Kenny once described what Ibushi smells like.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and especially comments make my day! I try to reply anytime I get a comment, but past and future apologies if I accidentally miss one. Please know that I still appreciate and treasure it!


End file.
